


Tango for two

by Mother_North



Series: Attraction [8]
Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Blow Jobs, Consensual Sex, Dancing, FOI 2018, Fluff and Smut, Innuendo, M/M, Rough Oral Sex, Tango, it is soft still, perhaps a bit kinky, romantic, stephanyu, yes it is inspired by THAT pic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-30 00:32:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17213777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mother_North/pseuds/Mother_North
Summary: “A tango?”Yuzuru winks at Stephane and tiny sparkles of mischief are dancing in his dark eyes.It is impossible not to give in.





	Tango for two

**Author's Note:**

> Listening to Astor Piazzolla has its consequences. Also, this is inspired by that infamous photograph of Stephane and Yuzu, taken during FOI 2018 tour.
> 
> RPF disclaimer: this is a work of fiction and it is not meant to offend anyone. It is a product of author’s imagination only. All thoughts, actions and emotions described below have nothing to do with reality.

*

The ice show is nearing its end and its final number is about to put a grandiose full stop to the whole event. Bright lights of projectors and figure skaters crowding the ice: flamboyant outfits, lively moves and super-energetic vibes to exude. It seems the air itself is sparkling with warmth as the audience is going wild, cheering and applauding loudly. There are plenty of different flags and banners at the viewing stands as the grateful Japanese fans (who appreciate figure skating first and foremost) are ready to support everyone. Stephane likes to find himself in the center of activities again, appreciating this feast of life, meeting with good old colleagues and having a glimpse at some of perspective juniors. He is ready to share some advices on choreography if needed and all in all — to simply enjoy skating in an ice show. He is waving at everyone right and left, swiftly wipes sweat off his forehead (no one said figure skating is any less tiring than it has always been despite its outward _seemingly_ effortless beauty). He feels his limbs turning leaden and muscles are practically screaming from exhaustion. Still, it is somehow a satisfying feeling overall. Stephane smiles genuinely when a time for an infamous quad battle comes as it is traditionally serves as a bonus to the show. No one is inviting him to take part (not that he finds himself too eager either), instead he is standing next to Johnny at the periphery of the ice-rink. Perhaps, he could land a quad toe but after taking into consideration the state of the ice and the ice-show lightning it might have proven to be pretty reckless. It is hard not to feel old amidst all these _quadsters_ throwing jumps left and right as if they were nothing, though when it comes to spins he could still teach quite a few of them a lesson on how it should be done.

They are doing the final lap around the ice-rink and he spots a Swiss flag and a banner with his photo on it, as two overly enthusiastic ladies screaming his name. His chest aches, swept over with sudden nostalgia, maybe the pain is not as acute as it used to be once but it makes smile on his face waver. Johnny is looking straight at him knowingly and they exchange a barely there nods of secret camaraderie of two retired veterans. Stephane is grateful to his former fellow skaters, to every supportive fan in the audience who cared enough to come, to the pristine ice itself which has served him as a tool of self-actualization throughout all these years. In this world of music, movement and explosive emotions he feels alive again, _he feels himself_ here — a free-spirited artist, capable of touching hearts and grasping the essence of dance.

With his peripheral vision Stephane catches a sight of a delicate figure clad in a tender-pink outfit to his right. He can’t decide whether Yuzuru’s new costume for an exhibition number reminds him of seafoam in the rays of a sunset or of a sakura petal flying in the spring wind: decorative, sparkly rhinestones and tiny pearls shining enticingly in the dimmed light, his svelte figure basking in the glow, looking surreal. It is hard to tear one’s eyes off him.  Stephane read that the Japanese skater’s new ex is called _Haru yo koi_ and it comes to his mind that Yuzuru embodies Life and Spring in it — his long fingers throwing ice shavings into the air or his lips practically grazing the gelid surface in an imitation of a kiss while he is executing his signature hydroblade move. Stephane thinks there is no wonder some have an impression that this _wonder-boy_ has descended from heaven directly to mother-earth to tread here, among mere mortals gracing them with his heavenly beauty. There is something hardly describable about him, a _certain aura_ which captivates you and grabs your complete attention while simultaneously setting your soul free.

 _A living and breathing paradox_.

Yuzuru is taking bows gracefully, a bright smile on his excited face. He is noticeably tired too and there is no doubt he has given his all while performing tonight. He can’t do it in any other way — _everything or nothing_ ; Stephane still remembers the feeling when your chest is ready to burst, overwhelmed with joy and sweet elation. It can’t be forgotten. Not in a lifetime.

Before leaving backstage Yuzuru hugs each figure skater. Stephane is beaming at him before embracing his fragile body briefly. Yuzuru’s skin emanates heat even through a thin layer of costume fabric, he is breathing heavily and his eyes remind of two dark stars as he is gripping Stephane’s upper arms with his delicate yet surprisingly strong fingers.

In his turn Stephane says “ _arigato_ ” before stepping off the ice with a curt, polite nod.

 

*

“A tango?”

Yuzuru winks at Stephane and tiny sparkles of mischief are dancing in his dark eyes.

It is impossible not to give in.

Stephane lets Yuzuru take the lead. The photographer makes a couple of snapshots for FOI booklet and they are laughing good-naturedly at their own little vagary. Yuzuru is looking directly at the camera defiantly placing his hand just below Stephane’s lower back and although the older man realizes that it is just a game, an innocent fooling around — his heart skips a beat. Yuzuru’s palm is small, his wrist is impossibly delicate and fragile and long, tapered fingers are cold to the touch. Stephane is staring into the camera with a mysterious half-smirk, as if saying: “Just take a look at this insolent boy! Who does he think he is? ”

But he has to confess to himself that he would gladly let Yuzuru do _oh so much more_. The photographer is giving them thumbs up, clearly satisfied with the pictures he has taken but Yuzuru is not trying to get out of the circle of Stephane’s arms nevertheless — their bodies are still flush against each other and the boy’s breath is ghosting over his lips when he quietly asks:

_“Care to dance with me?”_

Yuzuru is laughing enticingly, his head thrown back, his whole body arching into Stephane (he would only need to throw his leg over the older man’s hip to make it look like a textbook tango picture). Stephane is humming a tune by _Piazzolla_ silently, smiling at Yuzuru’s boldness. He catches himself thinking that Yuzuru is unbelievably organic in a tango, that there are passion and dramatism abound in him initially and that the required fire is ready to get wild at the first spark. Dressed in a plain black t-shirt, track pants and snickers Yuzuru still manages to appear as refined as a statuette. Actually, the both of them are wearing clothes which are hardly suitable to dancing tango but somehow the needed mood is set and their bodies make a perfect duo; there is music playing within them and they let it have them trapped, swaying on the waves of a passionate dance.

They are alone in an empty hall and Stephane is ready to bet that the air between them is electrified, a spark ready to break any moment now. This feels strange and wonderful at the same time. It is surprisingly easy to find a common rhythm with Yuzuru even on the floor and it seems to Stephane that they are floating above the parquet. He is drowning in Yuzuru’s abysmal eyes, falling to the depths of his hypnotizing gaze.  Yuzuru is breathing hard and there is a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead; he doesn’t let himself a mere blink as if it would mean a total surrender, according to some sort of untold rules of their little frivolous game.

_His impossible eyes are meant to be drawn into._

There is a pleasant haze in Stephane’s mind, clouding his judgement, making him unable to register who of the two was the first to lean into the other. Yuzuru’s lips felt soft and supple against his demanding ones, their kiss getting heated almost instantly turning into a frenzied battle of tongues. Stephane is holding Yuzuru in his arms, feeling his whole body setting ablaze with a sudden urge of desire. It takes all his will to finally break the fervid kiss, gasping for air desperately.

Yuzuru is still audaciously close and there is a languid little smirk at the corner of his kiss-swollen, moist lips. Stephane fixates his gaze at his quivering eyelashes ( _the most important thing is not to stare at those accursed lips_ ), his body frozen against him like a drawn tight bowstring ready to shoot a deadly arrow.

A dance which began as a mere whim got out of hand quite quickly. There is an awkward silence and Stephane smiles, trying to ease the tension in between. He wants to have this very moment embedded in his memory: _his_ beautiful blushing cheeks, _his_ dark disheveled hair, the way _his_ body responded to his every move, dissolving in their shared passionate tango.

The momentarily charm dispels when Yuzuru slips away out of his grip agilely. Stephane reads unspoken gratitude in the younger man’s eyes, as if he has done him a favour, accepting an invitation, agreeing to dance with him this impromptu tango of theirs which let them get so close for a couple of fleeting minutes.

Stephane shouts after Yuzuru, his words reaching the young man already at the doors.

“Thank you, Yuzu!”

Somehow it seems totally right and _necessary_ to Stephane.

 

*

Hotel sheets smell of freshness, as Stephane finds himself in his bed after the final show of the tour. There is undeniable hollowness creeping in, mixing with a sense of accomplishment — it is always this way after the grand finale. The most part of the summer still lies ahead and he makes an effort to chase away the sad thoughts that everything someday is bound to come to its inevitable end. He craves some red wine and he pours himself a single glass. He opens the hotel windows wide, letting the intoxicating night air fill the room, pleasant half-lights mixing with peculiar scents of early summer. There are first stars appearing at the velvety canvas of the dark sky but city lights make it impossible to appreciate their distant shimmering to the full extent for those who care to look at them.             

Stephane’s lips are painted red and there is low-key warmth spreading itself all over his slowly relaxing body. He is thinking of his fellow-skaters having fun downstairs at the closing banquet and that he has barely managed to get away from Johnny who pouted capriciously, telling Stephane that he has taken a mortal offence at him for not wanting to enjoy the partying for _just one more hour_.

He had to exercise all of his charms before apologizing and taking a final leave. He wanted to spend this last evening in meditative silence with his thoughts as his only faithful companions.

_He was startled by unexpected knocking at the door —_ _three confident knocks._

_Yuzuru standing at his hotel room threshold with unreadable expression on his face —_ _one heartbeat._

They both deemed words unnecessary right from the start. Stephane caught Yuzuru’s hands, securing them above his head in a firm grip, his body having the younger man pressed against the hard surface of the wall. Stephane was assaulting his sensual mouth with vigour. Yuzuru’s kisses were no less demanding and tasting wine on Stephane’s tongue made his head spin. They were kissing for a long time with ravenous hunger, knowing full well that they had only _this evening_ _and the following night_ ; tomorrow sunrise taking away whatever they had during these hours of lust-induced craze.

Yuzuru lets Stephane bind his wrists with his necktie, willing control to be taken completely by the older man. He moans from anticipation as Stephane takes off his trousers and slides down his silk shirt from his thin shoulders, exposing his flushed skin to the chilly night air. Stephane’s tender hands are caressing his smooth chest, pinching his sensitive nipples harshly. Yuzuru wants to form words to tell Stephane that he _does want_ _it badly too_ but there are only lascivious moans spilling from his helplessly parted lips. When Stephane’s lips close over the tip of his cock starting to suck greedily, Yuzuru arches up into him; the necktie is digging into the skin of his wrists painfully adding to his excitement.

Yuzuru feels like dying, melting into the hands and mouth all over his body, _devouring_ him.                  

He wants to warn Stephane that he is already so close, his strained thighs trembling. He makes a movement to get away but Stephane’s unyielding hold on his hipbones doesn’t let him to. His orgasm is swift and ruthless, setting his nerve endings aflame, his mouth agape in a silent scream. He is heaving and his palms are sweaty, marked by tiny half-moons left there by his short nails.            

Stephane kisses him deeply, desperately. Yuzuru can taste himself on his tongue and it thrills him to no end, a choked groan escaping his lips. His heartbeat is deafening in his temples and he is feeling caught in a delirious, wanton dream. Stephane’s hands are shaking visibly and there is a shameless _plea_ in his brown eyes, as Yuzuru is sliding towards the foot of the bed unhurriedly, taking his place between the older man’s wide-spread legs. He doesn’t need to be told twice.

Yuzuru can’t use his hands as they are still bound behind his back. Stephane’s fingers are pulling painfully at his black locks, guiding his lips to where he wants them to be, dictating the punishing, hard rhythm with his relentlessly thrusting up hips. He is having a way with the younger man’s mouth obscenely, his hot flesh pulsing deep inside his throat. Yuzuru’s vision is blurring and _there is nothing_ except for Stephane’s loud breathing and words said from time to time with a cracked voice (Yuzuru assumes it is German, though, he can’t be one hundred percent sure). He knows not whether these are curses or praises but they are undeniably tinted with such desperation it sends a shiver down his spine.

He is being used like a mere rag-doll, brought to the very precipice — corrupted and tainted and… _liberated_.

Hot tears are streaming down his smooth cheeks and after several forceful thrusts Stephane comes into his mouth, making him swallow every single drop.

Yuzuru’s face is flushed with arousal and he is glassy-eyed, his gaze unfocused. Stephane touches his wet cheekbone with the back of his hand tentatively, traces his swollen lower lip with his thumb. His kiss is chaste and tender this time and despite the fact Yuzuru looks _completely destroyed_ at the moment, Stephane still sees him as a _pure angel_.

Finally, freeing his wrists, Stephane motions Yuzuru to place his head on his chest. He is playing with his moist hair as Yuzuru’s fingers are idly drawing patterns on the man’s sweaty skin.

Silence they are sharing right now is equally comfortable and _pleasantly_ _satiated_ and Yuzuru’s quiet, husky voice sounds a bit eerie as he brings himself to speak.

“I’ve decided to take tango as my free skate music next season…Will you help me with the choreography?”

A joyful smile illuminates whole Stephane’s countenance. He kisses the top of Yuzuru’s head, arms moving to rest at his thin waist, embracing the younger man tightly.

“Of course… We’ll make the most passionate tango figure skating world has ever seen.”

Yuzuru laughs, absolutely self-satisfied.            

“I knew you were the right guy to turn to.”     

*

**Author's Note:**

> Happy New Year and winter holidays :3


End file.
